Kyle was one of many who had felt invigorated from the Year head's speech. He had mulled over what she spoke about as he lay on the bed.
'The map. I wonder how she managed to conjure such? Would I be able to do so?' Kyle thought with glee.
'Ah, the timetable! I almost forgot,' Kyle exclaimed before locating the timetable on his watch.
[Pre- Mana Core, General Year 1 Time-table]
He saw the available one. Other ones were grayed out.
"Let's see," he murmured, clicking on the available one, "8:00 to 10:00, History. What? History?!" Kyle exclaimed before continuing.
"Then, 10:00 to 14:00, Mana-core Formation. After that, from 14:00 to 16:00, General Weapon Training."
"Okay, the sessions would end by four. I wonder how there aren't any breaks in between?" Kyle asked no one in particular. "Well, It's gonna be hectic from now on."
Kyle went to sleep, not bothering to set an alarm. The night passed in a blink of an eye as he was awoken by the morning sunlight.
"It's morning already?" Kyle asked as he glanced at his status. "7:40?!"
He quickly took his bath and put on his academy uniform within ten minutes, not even sparing time to admire the uniform.
"I should be able to get there within ten minutes, can't I?" he used his comm to find the direction of the classes.
"Five kilometers? Oh, crap. I know I can run ten kilometers in twenty-eight minutes, there's no chance I'll make it then."
He eventually decided to stop his contemplation and begin to go. "At least I'll make progress on the daily quest."
[Daily Quest: Run 10 kilometers]
[Reward: 1 STA point]
[0/10 KM]
[Timer: 0.00.00]
He quickly began to run towards the class.
Thankfully, the uniform was fairly light despite its number.
The classes which encircled the library were numerous. In one section, there were general classes for each year and another was for the elemental wings.
As Kyle approached the Year 1 history class, he reduced his steps and went inside. Thanks to his plentiful Stamina upgrade, he wasn't as exhausted as someone who just run five kilometers.
[12.45.87]
[Energy: 17/20]
"Sigh. Though it was better than last time, still wasn't enough," Kyle muttered.
He took a glance at his Energy points which had only reduced by three. He had noticed they restored with time.
'Would my HP also restore if it reduces,' the thought lingered for a moment as he prepared for the class.
Kyle came to a halt outside the heavy wooden door of the history classroom, heart pounding in his chest. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before turning the cold brass handle and pushing the door open. The creak of the hinges echoed through the room, drawing the attention of every student seated at the wooden desks arranged in neat rows.
At the front of the class stood Professor Grendel, a tall, imposing figure with a mane of white hair and a permanent scowl etched across his face. His sharp, hawk-like eyes snapped to Kyle the moment he stepped inside, freezing him in his tracks.
"Ah," Grendel's voice was grave, dripping with sarcasm. "Decided to grace us with your presence, I see. Two minutes late. Do you think our history is of so little importance that you can waltz in whenever you please?"
Kyle swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "I-I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."
Grendel's eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "It better not. Take your seat. Quickly."
Kyle nodded and hurried to an empty desk near the back of the room, feeling the eyes of his classmates following his every move. He could hear whispers and the occasional snicker as he settled into his chair, but he was surprised when he saw Riya sitting beside him. She gave him a disapproving look before turning back in front.
'There's no way I'm the only one who was late,' he hoped.
Professor Grendel turned back to the blackboard, where he had been in the middle of a lecture. His chalk moved swiftly across the surface, outlining key events and dates with a precision that spoke of years of practice. The subject today was the Zekkoa Civil War, a series of conflicts that had shaped the very foundations of their world.
"As I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted," Grendel continued, his tone icy, " the Zekkoa Civil War were not merely battles for territory or power. They were fought over ideologies, over the very essence of what it means to wield magic. The scars of those wars run deep, influencing every aspect of our society to this day."
Kyle looked around the class, few of them were with notebooks. Scribbling as much as they could, even Riya!
'How the hell did they get notebooks?' he asked inwardly.
He threw a questioning look at Riya who ignored him and paid attention to the lecture.
Kyle decided to follow suit, grabbing every information he could. He made a mental note to ask about the notebooks after the class.
The professor's voice droned on, a monotonous lecture that, despite its importance, seemed designed to bore the students into submission.
But Kyle determined not to fall further behind, forced himself to pay attention. He glanced around the room, noting the varying degrees of engagement on his classmates' faces. Some were dutifully taking notes, while others doodled in the margins of their books or stared blankly at the wall.
Professor Grendel's disdain for his students was palpable. It was clear he believed that none of them truly appreciated the weight of the history he was teaching. His voice grew more bitter with each passing minute as if he were daring the class to care about the past.
"And what do you think happened after the Treaty of Zekkoa?" Grendel suddenly barked, his eyes locking onto a student who had been nodding off in the front row. The student jolted awake, stammering an incoherent response.
"Wrong," Grendel snapped. "It led to the formation of the Mage Association, an institution that dictates the very laws we live by today. But of course, you wouldn't know that, would you? Too busy dreaming of glory and grandeur, ignoring the lessons that history offers."
Kyle was enjoying the lesson, he just wished he had a pen.
The rest of the class passed in a blur of dates, names, and pivotal moments, each delivered with the same disdainful edge.
By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, Kyle's head was spinning with information and his stomach was rumbling. The thought that he didn't have breakfast dawned upon him.
As the students filed out, Professor Grendel remained at his desk, his stern gaze following them. "Remember," he called after them, "those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it. And trust me, none of you are prepared for the consequences."
Kyle slipped out the door, a mix of relief and determination coursing through him. He knew he had to do better, not just for himself, but to prove to Grendel that some students did care about history, that it wasn't a lost cause. And he would start by never being late again. He hoped.